


Stuck In the Headlights

by AdelineAround



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bottom Gavin, Bottom Hank, Consensual Sex, Hand Jobs, Japanese Rope Bondage, Light BDSM, M/M, Oral Sex, Painplay, Post-Revolution, Rope Bondage, Rope Bunny Gavin, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Top Connor, Top Hank, Top RK900, Verbal Humiliation, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 23:27:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15784317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdelineAround/pseuds/AdelineAround
Summary: Gavin likes Hank, but can never say the right words. RK900 has a plan that he knows will not fail.





	Stuck In the Headlights

**Author's Note:**

> For Jak, based on his art: [here](https://twitter.com/yikesjak/status/1028975578886688768)  
> It's not my best writing, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. <3

Dark.

That is all he sees as sturdy, boiled hemp slides deliciously over his bare skin.

Hot.

Gavin can feel the unusual, warm breath at the crook of his neck, so close to biting love marks in that area. It is slightly humid, those puffs of air, leaving him feeling lightheaded with lust.

Tight.

He groans aloud when the second to last knot is tied, securing Gavin in an open stance. He could flex his muscles and test how taut the ropes encasing his body are, but he knows he has time for that later. Right now, he just needs to let go, and allow the scene to take him over.

“Quite a diamond in the rough,” Gavin visibly shudders at the voice; it is so close that he can feel the vibrations of sound traveling through the heavy air around him. “Who would have ever known, detective?”

“Shut up,” Gavin spits before he realizes it. “Of course, you’d know jackshit about me.”

A chuckle arises to Gavin’s right. The man forces himself to breathe, but he can hear the fucking smirk when the voice says,

“I may not know, but I’m sure your precious _lieutenant_ might.”

Like lightning to a tree, Gavin’s ears burst into flame with embarrassment. A pretty burn of shame creeps across his cheeks at the mention of lieutenant Hank Anderson, someone Gavin has admired since he got into the Detroit City Police.

He growls low in his throat, “Don’t you fucking bring Hank up in a time like this, RK.”

RK900, his android work partner, chuckles, one of his hands reaching out to pat Gavin not-so-gently on the cheek. It feels more like muted slaps than a pat.

“Why not?” he asks, tone ever pleasant; just like his predecessor’s. “From what I have gathered, you seem to enjoy entertaining the thought of lieutenant Anderson tying you up like this.”

Gavin shakes his head, rattling his bound wrists above, only to moan as the rope tightens a smidge around his forearms. “That doesn’t- fuck- that doesn’t concern you, stupid fucking tin can!”

“Your words cannot wound an android, Gavin,” RK900 tuts, voice so alive that Gavin _hates_ it. “Calling me a ‘tin can’ will just earn you more punishment.”

Gavin’s blood is singing at the word “punishment”. His heart races- what does RK900 plan to do to him? Will he whip him into shape? Will he force Gavin down on his knees and make him grovel at the android’s feet? Would RK900 take Gavin’s God-given mouth and use it for his own debauched pleasure? The man shivers at each thought, feeling his lower extremities awaken with desire.

“I ain’t scared of you or any of the punishment you claim to give me.” Keeping his tough attitude on, Gavin is able to piece together a coherent sentence, even if “ain’t” is not an actual word in the dictionary. He pulls his hands into fists.

_Slap, slap,_

_Slap!_

In rapid succession, three spanks to Gavin’s inner thighs are delivered, each one pulling a squeak from the man’s vocals.

“Phck!” His teeth are clenched so tight from the pain, the curse word is slurred into more of an audible breath than profanity.

Hot and bright, the physical hurt blooms across Gavin’s legs as more are delivered in place of his punishment. The man can feel the RK900 model standing close to him, invading his personal space; fucking _chuckling_ in his ear. The android nibbles on the shell of it, eliciting a hiccup from him.

But his cock is growing, standing to attention by the time the spanks have receded. Gavin attempts to close his legs in shame, but the spreader bar keeps him from doing so.

“Are you scared now, detective?” quips RK900, fingers sliding along Gavin’s sensitive, newly-bruised flesh.

Gavin grunts. “As if a Ken Doll like you could make me piss my pants,” When RK900 digs his fingernails into the meat of Gavin’s thighs, he shouts, “Fuck you, that hurts!”

RK900 releases his grip on Gavin, circling him until he is standing in front of the man, or so Gavin can assume. His hands, still bound, are taken down from the hook that holds them up; Gavin’s shoulders creak with relief, the pose not in the slightest friendly to his very human joints. It is then that RK900 decides to shove the detective to the floor, with the man barely bracing his fall with his forearms.

The fall is a rough tumble, so to speak. Gavin pants on the floor, unable to move from the bondage wrapped tight around him. His blindfold is slipping, and he peers up over the edge to get a look at RK900’s stern gaze.

“Get up, detective.” Undoing some of the knots, RK900 manages to allow Gavin movement without completely untying him. He stays there a little longer, connecting and redoing the hemp rope so they sit perfectly along Gavin’s skin. “You’ve got a call from DCPD. There is a case Fowler is assigning you.”

Gavin grimaces, pulling the spreader bar away from him. He will have to give shit to Fowler for this later, though he is technically on-call. He points down at his fat erection.

“And what the hell am I going to do with this?” he asks. He will not deny that he is disappointed when RK900 turns away, already cleaning up the mess they have made.

“You can stick it in your jeans, detective,” the android says simply. However, he does not give Gavin a chance to reply when he adds, “And later, if you’re good, I’ll give your little,” He gives a perfunctory once-over Gavin’s cock. “ _Guy_ some much-needed attention.”

Gavin stares. And stares. And stares some more, the endless possibilities of getting railed later tonight rolling through his brain.

Damn him for being such a horn dog.

RK900 quirks a brow at him, adjusting his own tie. “The case won’t wait very long for us, detective. I suggest you suit up quickly.”

Gavin, though, realizes he is still clad in knots and bondage.

“I gotta get this off me,” he mumbles, already trying to fuss with the knot closest to his clavicle.

With a sharp slap, RK900 whaps his hand away from the bonds. “No. Keep those on. There’s no time to undo this now,”

“But-“ protests Gavin, but the android is leering at him now, so close that their noses might as well be touching.

“No, ifs, ands or buts, Gavin,” RK900 is whispering into his sensitive ears. “Get dressed, now.” 

The command is so gravelly and strong that Gavin’s knees feel as though they might buckle. RK900 hands him a pair of jeans, all too nicely shoving it to Gavin’s abdomen.

“Come on. There’s no time to waste.”

* * *

Three days go by, and yet Gavin is not touched once by RK900.

He should not be stressing over it, wondering if there is anything he did wrong in the past few days, but nothing adds up to be a valid reason. In his book, Gavin is an A+ student, 4.0 GPA with extracurriculars and hours of volunteer work. He hasn’t taken off the ropes RK900 bound him in during the earlier half of the week; cleaning his body with a mass number of baby wipes to keep fresh. He is mildly surprised that he, himself, is not smelling like a walking towelette.

“You look like crap, Reed.” Gavin shakes himself out of his thoughts to see Hank Anderson standing at his desk.

Don’t go all high-school blushy on him, dammit, Gavin thinks.

Hank raises not one, but both eyebrows as he continues, “Have you been sleeping alright?”

Gavin frowns. “What’s it to you, old man?” Gavin curses under his breath; not what he wanted to say, but it should suffice.

Hank puts his hands up in surrender, “Calm it. I just thought I could try being nice once in a while, maybe try to help or something.” he says, and Gavin feels the words stab him a little in the heart. “But, clearly, you’ve got it already in for yourself.”

“Look, I-” Just then, his phone buzzes. Gavin holds up his finger, unlocking his phone to read the text he received.

**From: Big Connor**

**Tell Hank you’d like his help.**

What the actual fuck. Gavin stares at the message before looking around, trying to find his robocop, but he is nowhere to be found in Gavin’s vicinity.

“I can’t do that,” he murmurs, scowling deeper.

“What was that, Gavin?” Hank asks, still standing in front of the detective’s desk.

Shit, fuck all of this. “I said, I can get used to that.” Gavin wants to slap himself so hard, he sees stars. If RK900 wants to play a shit little game, so be it.

Hank nods. “Mhm,” he hums.

“And I need your help,” Gavin blurts out as quick as he can.

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh, yeah,” What does RK want him to do now? Gavin is at a loss here.

_Ping!_

**From: Big Connor**

**Tell him to come with you to the bathroom.**

“I need your help, but not at my desk.” Gavin says after peering down at RK900’s message. “Come on,” He points his head towards the restroom, standing abruptly.

“Uh, okay,”

Hank follows him to the bathroom without question, coffee still in his hand as he enters the restroom.

It is dank in fluorescent lighting, tiles too white, grey and black for Gavin’s taste. It smells like bleach, but at least he knows the stalls have been freshly cleaned. Hank takes a sip of his drink.

**From: Big Connor**

**Make him untie your ropes.**

Gavin sputters. Fucking plastic prick; he is setting Gavin up with Hank, making him look like the freak that he is. For all he knows, Hank could walk right the fuck out of the bathroom when Gavin presents the ropes RK900 has tied him up in. Hell, Gavin does not even know if Hank prefers guys in the first place.

“I, uh,” he starts. He glances at Hank, who does not look like he’s in a hurry any more than Gavin is. “Uh, um.”

**Cat got your tongue, detective?**

How the fuck does RK900 know what’s happening? Gavin deduces two possibilities: a) Ken Doll must have hacked his phone, or b) RK900 is spying from one of the stalls. That sneaky bastard.

Gavin clears his throat, starting over again. “Can you, uh, I…”

Fucking say it, Reed, Gavin scolds himself. Instead, he opts for the easiest, bluntest option, and lifts up his shirt to expose the intricate kinbaku that RK900 has bound him in.

“Help?” It comes out more like a question than a request.

“Gavin,” The man’s name slides off Hank’s tongue like liquid gold. Gavin quivers slightly at his name. “What the hell? Is this some type of prank?”

Hank looks, well, more concerned and off put than aroused, if he is in such a case. Gavin can feel his heart sinking; what type of cruel joke is this, for RK900 to shame him in front of his… man crush? What type of cruel and unusual punishment is this, he wonders, heart traveling up to his throat and _pounding_.

He should have known this would happen. The thought screams in his head: Hank does not like him back. Only in his dreams and fantasies with RK900 did _his_ Hank Anderson want to screw him into the floor. Gavin scowls; how foolish of him to get his hopes up.

“I…”

But Gavin never gets to finish the sentence. Someone slams the bathroom door open, interrupting the two in their awkward conversation.

Gavin pulls down his shirt in a hurry.

“Lieutenant,” Connor is in the doorway, eyes set on no one but Hank. “You have a call,” He glances quickly at Gavin. “Or… was I interrupting something, lieutenant?”

Gavin swears under his breath, wishing he could die right now. Or perhaps, climb into a hole, under a rock, and die silently.

Hank shakes his head. “No, nothing, Connor. I’ll- I’ll be right out.” He gives Gavin an apologetic look, so sincere that the detective can feel his heart shattering to pieces. “Sorry, no rest for the weary.” It is the softest fucking sentiment that Hank has ever bestowed onto him.

“O-oh,” Gavin hears himself mutter, but the ground is already beginning to burn his feet. There’s a sense of dread, bile that rises up inside him, replacing where his heart once was in his neck, and building layer by filthy layer. “I get it. Go.”

The man gives Gavin one last apology before he takes his leave, and Gavin tries not to feel anything as he shuffles back to his desk. This could have gone so much smoother but, instead, he failed to get the right words out of his mouth, which frustrates him to no end. Tears prick at the edges of his eyes. He sits down in his chair with a grunt, bringing a fist down onto the pile of case files that lie on the surface of his desk. Around him, his coworkers jump at the sound of his punch to the files.

Perhaps it is better to feel angry than mushy and gooey for someone who does not reciprocate. Gavin sniffles. He needs to suck back the tears, the pain, the humility, if he wants to be seen as the tough persona he has established at work. He delivers another fist to the same manila folder.

“Aggressive today, aren’t you?” Gavin turns his face to glare at none other than RK900. “You should try exercising before coming to work, to let out your pent-up frustrations.”

Gavin grinds his teeth once, hearing them clack together and screech for a second. Then, he is yelling, “Fuck you! You, you fucking plastic prick! You think you can just mock me, when you’re the damn cause of this?”

“Reed!” Fowler’s voice is loud and clear, cutting through the messy, distraught emotions that pollute the air around Gavin. “Settle down now, or we’ll have a discussion in my office.”

No, he does not want to have a discussion with Fowler in his office right now. With a pout, Gavin shuts his trap until RK900 taps him on the shoulder.

“What the fuck now?” he grumbles, mood soured from earlier. He glares daggers into his partner.

“Archive room,” the android says.

“What?” But RK900 is already forcing him up, pulling his jacket until Gavin has no other option, if he does not want his favorite outerwear ripped.

“Archive room, _now_.”

As soon as the doors are accessed, shut and locked, Gavin is slammed onto the control panel. He bounces off, ricocheting like a rubber ball, and onto the hard concrete beneath him.

“What the hell, RK?” He wants to scream, but Gavin finds that he is too high strung for even that one task. His breath comes fast, horrified yet excited at the time as the android moves to straddle him, pinching his nipples through the fabric of his shirt.

They have never done something like this before. Before, it had been only outside of work. Now, RK900 is atop him, face so close to Gavin’s that the man could kiss his lips. It is dangerous, for they could easily be caught by anyone with granted access to the evidence room. Surely, RK900 must know this already; taken his chances and risked the probability.

“Fuck!” He screams at the sensation, but resentment is still on heavy on his tongue, “Fuck you! You set me up, made me look like some maniac perv in front of Hank! What is wrong with you, RK?”

RK900, unphased, brings his hand up, eyes ice cold as he slaps Gavin across the cheek. The sound of synthetic skin against a human one is loud,echoing into Gavin’s ears. Pain streaks through him, makes his head spin and his vision swirl.

“It was for your own good,” RK900 is talking now, his voice borderline on raspy. It is the same voice he uses when he chooses to fuck Gavin, make a mess of the man and destroy his ass. “Hank is too preoccupied with Connor, Gavin. Haven’t you already noticed how the man no longer hates my kind? How he will do everything and anything Connor asks him to? Surely, you can’t be that dense…” He tugs at the ropes under Gavin’s shirt, earning an exhale from the man.

Hearing the insult, jealousy comes first, then Gavin’s resentment flares. Hank cannot be attracted to Connor, can he? “Oh, so you think you’re a fucking know-it-all, don’t you?” he hisses, finding that his knees are free. He attempts to kick, but the bonds he is tied in underneath his clothes restrict his movement. His kick becomes no more than a flail, at best.

“I am,” RK900 says with enough dignity to wound an animal. Gavin recoils when he continues, “And I know so much that I’ve orchestrated this all for you.”

“Orchestrated?” Gavin does not get to say, for the all-too familiar beep and slide of the evidence room entrance whisks open, then shut again.

“Good, you came as I asked,” RK900 is talking to those that entered the room.

There is a scuffle of shoes, one pair dragging while the other walks precisely with a click every time the shoes’ heels hit the floor. There’s an android here, Connor, and someone else. Gavin’s face heats uncontrollably.

“It seems like I might be as interested as you,” comes Connor’s clear voice, rising and falling in its melodic speech pattern. “But you must tell me why I had to bring lieutenant Anderson with me.”

RK900 gets up, releasing Gavin so he may better speak to Connor. “ _Why_ I asked you to bring the lieutenant with you is simply because Gavin,” He points at the man. “Might do a little better with a specific… audience watching him.”

“An audience?” Connor asks, still seemingly unclear on the situation at hand.

Connor’s successor puts a boot on the middle of Gavin’s chest before replying, peering down at the man’s face with an indifferent expression. “He might like it, considering his attraction to Hank. Isn’t that right, detective?”

He slides his foot down until it gets to Gavin’s belt, then digs his heel, just slightly, into his clothed dick.

Gavin gasps, body automatically reacting. He curses, hating how his member begins to grow again; being flung around left and right in arousal heightening his sensitivity even more. RK900 rubs his heel up and down, watching his every action.

“You should watch, lieutenant,” He can hear Connor say, further towards the back wall of the archive room. “Detective Reed is a far more interesting sight than me right now.”

Gavin cannot see, but Hank gives some sort of stuttering excuse, until there is a moan that bubbles out from the lieutenant police officer’s mouth.

“What are you doing to him?” he asks as RK900 pulls away, leaving him high and dry.

Then, he is hoisted to his feet, brown eyes now zoned in on Hank and Connor. Gavin holds back a gasp, his heart palpitating. With Connor pressed against Hank’s back, one arm slithers down to palm at his groin while the other goes to the man’s throat, fingers curling around the thick column carefully.

Hank looks bewildered.

Hank looks… good like that.

Arousal curls its tendrils deep in Gavin’s stomach, lashing one out to wrap around his dick and pull, pulling upwards until Gavin is hard again. He breathes unsteadily, jealousy coming to play in the mix. What he would do to be Connor right now, touching Hank so intimately like that.

“Let him go, fucking dolly,” he growls, yelping when RK900 shoves him to the control panel again, this time keeping him there with his back flat against the surface.

The android reaches for his jacket, prying it off his shoulders like it is made of cheap tulle, throwing it to the ground carelessly so he can move onto Gavin’s shirt.

“Strip,” he commands, tracing the hem of the tee before ripping the belt buckle and breaking Gavin’s belt itself.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Gavin shouts in protest. “That was Armani, goddammit.”

RK900 squints his eyes, prying Gavin’s name-brand belt from his pants and folding it in half. With a quick snap, he slashes it across the man’s chest. It hurts, but Gavin’s member jolts with energy at the punishment.

This is so fucking messed up, Gavin thinks, but his head is becoming hazy with the mixed pain and horniness. He lifts the shirt up and off of him, discarding it near his abandoned jacket. His jeans go next, pooling around his ankles as they drop from his hips. Stepping out of them, RK900 kicks them away, merely missing Gavin’s feet. All that is left is his boxers.

“He looks good when he’s naked like that, doesn’t he?” Connor is the one to talk, freeing Hank’s impressive cock from its confines now. “You seem to be admiring the view very much,”

“Off,” RK900’s gaze is still collected, almost medical when Gavin looks into his eyes. He complies, shucking his undergarment from his body to expose the suit he has been wearing from the first day he was born, the hemp ropes adorning him like red ribbon would a Christmas present. “Kneel.”

“Make me,” Gavin sneers, but the fight is draining from him. He loathes just how much he is enjoying this, when he should be repulsed.

Without any grace, RK900 shoves him to his knees, taking Gavin’s stubbly chin between three fingers. His eyes move just slightly, as if analyzing the man before Gavin jerks away from his grasp. He despises having his face being touched.

“Gavin’s been enamored by you for a long time, lieutenant,” RK900 says without looking at Hank. He brushes his fingertips along Gavin’s clavicle, taking in the shudder that runs through the man’s body. His hand travels further down, swirling a pink-brown nipple for just a moment. “But he has never been able to express it as well as he’d like to. Isn’t that right, detective?”

“Enamored by me? What are you getting at?” Hank asks, positively baffled. He bites back a whimper when Connor fingers at the tip of his dick, swiping carefully along the drooling slit.

“Perhaps, humans aren’t exactly as in tune with one another as they’d like to think,” RK900 shakes his head, continuing, “You didn’t know? Gavin has been crushing on you since he took up the job here,” Crouching to level with Gavin’s height, given his current stance, the android smirks. “But maybe you thought all of Gavin’s back and forth bantering was an invitation to rivalry; not flirtation.”

Hank sighs shakily, eyes half-lidded as Connor continues to stroke him, lips smoothing up and down the nape of his neck, as to stimulate him some more.

“Tell me otherwise, lieutenant. Tell me that you thought otherwise,”

RK900 mimics Connor’s actions, taking Gavin’s erection and squeezing a ring around his base before stroking upwards. Gavin mewls at the administration, hips canting so he may get better purchase out of it. His cock glistens with precum, dribbling down RK900’s sterile fingers in tiny rivulets of translucent liquid.

“Do it,” RK900 murmurs to him, “Call Hank’s name as I jerk you off.”

If he could, Gavin would be chewing at his nails, so turned on by RK’s, Hank’s _and_ Connor’s eyes on him, the center of their attention. His chest puffs out unconsciously, back arching to show off his front. The shame that was once at the forefront of his mind is now eradicated, replaced by unadulterated lust. He wants, and he wants so bad. The fact that RK900 is allowing him to divulge in his guilty pleasures is a chance that his horny brain does not want to pass up.

He whines, the words bubbling high in his throat, but some part of him is still holding back, not yet submitting completely. He blinks once, twice, before a moan claws its way from his chest, RK900 bringing his synthetic tongue to Gavin’s nipple. The hot suction of the android’s mouth follows soon after, and sparks of electric pleasure zap to his core.

“H-hank,” Gavin finally gives. “Hank… _Lieutenant_.” Pride swells in Gavin as he watches the lieutenant’s cock twitch in Connor’s grasp, responding to Gavin’s voice. The desire to see more spurs him on to succumb to his urges. “Please, Hank,”

He struggles against the ropes that bind his body, hissing in satisfaction as RK900 undoes a few knots, only to pull the whole bondage system a little tighter. The material bites into his skin, sure to leave marks later, but Gavin does not care at the moment. He thrusts his hips once, earning a low growl from Hank across the room.

With a vulgar sounding pop, RK900 releases Gavin’s sensitive nipple.

“Tell him what you want him to do to you,” he says, expression as aloof as ever. It catches Gavin’s soul on fire.

Gavin gulps, searching deep in his skull for sentences he can easily string together. Everything is so muddled now; even the simplest of syllables difficult to grasp with Hank’s blue stare cutting into him.

_I-I_

_N-ni… need_

_-ou? Y…. yo-- you._

“Please, Hank,” slips from him first. “I need you to kiss me.”

An encouraging hum comes from RK900’s lips, rewarding the detective by bending over, taking Gavin into his mouth. He does not do more than stick it there, though, silently commanding Gavin to go on.

“K-kiss me,” he repeats, whining in the back of his throat when RK900 gives him a single suck. “Then slap me,” A swirl of tongue around the bulbous tip of his cock. “F-fuck… and tell me you like the way I b-- I bruise.

“Spread my legs and call me a slut,” Gavin clenches his teeth together for a millisecond. RK900 takes him deeper, his cock hitting what feels like the android’s uvula. His spine curves further, straining his muscles, in attempt to feed his entire length into RK900’s mouth.

Hank wets his lips a bit, as they are dry from breathing through his mouth. Connor licks up his neck slowly, burying his nose in those unkempt silver locks of Hank’s. Gavin groans.

“Have me bend over for you,” His mouth is on autopilot now, unchecked fantasies spewing from his mouth like a fountain. “Stick it in me, hard. Just let me scream through the pain; I love it. Let me wriggle on your dick until I can’t take it anymore. Please. Please, Hank, I need your cock- I need you to fuck me.”

RK900 pets over Gavin’s ropes, bobbing his head like a pro as he fellates the man, his free hand massaging the velvety balls just below the detective’s hard cock. Gavin pants, pupils so blown that the pitch black eats at the brown-colored irises. Gavin can feel himself about to capsize, so pent up from the last few days. The arousal in him quivers, unraveling from its knot in the pit of his belly.

“Don’t you want him to come, lieutenant?” Connor is the one to pipe up in the deadly silence around them. “Look at him. He’s losing his mind like this.”

Hank blinks slowly, almost as if he is weighing his options. Finally, he whispers, “Yes. Yes, I want him to come,” The lieutenant police officer wheezes when Connor speeds up his hand on his cock, urging him to finish soon.

“Then tell him, lieutenant,” Connor’s tone is still calm as ever. “What are you waiting for, Hank? You know you want the best for him.”

Gavin throws his head back, barely registering the pain when it hits the display panel column with a thunk. “Hank, Hank,” he begs, brain a puddle of goo.

Warm, wet tears flow freely from the corners of Gavin’s eyes, trailing down his face. His cheeks and nose are pink in a blush, his numerous scars standing out prominently amongst the flushed skin. His forehead becomes blotchy from the force at which he is crying. He needs to come, needs to find his ecstasy before the pleasure explodes from his veins.

Hank cannot bear to see Gavin like this. Breathing in a jilted puff of air, he allows Gavin his release,

“Come, Gavin. Come for me,”

With that, Gavin’s orgasm hits him like a freight train.

The sensation knocks the detective full force, stealing his breath away as he finds purchase in his ecstasy. Gavin’s heart feels like it has stopped, head so far in the clouds that he cannot see or hear anything around him. It is like someone has stuffed cotton into his ears, world silent so he can come with gusto. His muscles ache from clenching so hard; Gavin registers them spasming. Thick rope tied around him adds to the orgasmic sensation, the hemp wrapped around his body deliciously. Something hot and wet keeps his dick caged, taking in each and every spurt of his seed without complaint. Gavin sees stars; it feels unbelievably good…

Gavin snaps back to reality when Hank shouts, grappling at Connor as his cock shoots streams of white onto the floor. It’s an extremely erotic sight, one that would make Gavin hard again if he could. The man’s mouth hangs open in an “o” shape, face scrunching before going slack with relief. Gavin tries to commit this moment to memory. He knows he will be jerking off to this very often.

RK900 lets up from Gavin’s spent member, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. He drank Gavin’s come, he realizes then; Gavin looks anywhere but at the android, embarrassed that any of this happened.

“Dress,” RK900 says, handing him his clothes. “We should leave the room separately, to avoid speculation.”

Connor nods, unhanding Hank in an instant. “What about the mess we’ve made on the floor?” Mess, meaning Hank’s cum. Gavin purses his lips, doing his best not to stare at it too long.

RK900 analyzes the situation with lightning speed, then plucks Gavin’s boxers from the pile of clothes he had given the detective. He tosses it at the puddle of Hank’s cum.

Connor raises his brows, but gets to work, scrubbing the mess until there is not one shred of evidence to the naked eye.

“Jesus Christ,” Hank finally murmurs, leaning against the wall as he redoes his pants and belt buckle.

“Those were my good pair,” Gavin gripes when Connor gives it back to him, but something about having Hank’s soaked up spend on his boxers satisfies his carnal desires deep down inside.

“We will see you outside, detective, RK,” Connor says diplomatically, before exiting the archive room with Hank in tow.

Gavin stares, dumbfounded, like his brain is just now trying to catch up with everything that had happened. When he looks at RK900, the android is smiling. It is an expression that Gavin finds utmost creepy.

“You liked my surprise, I take it,” Gavin nods slowly in response. “And Hank knows you like him,” Another nod. RK900 sighs, “Then my mission is accomplished. Go back to work, detective.”

“Fuck you,” he says one last time, but there is no malice to it.

_Ping!_

**From: Lt. Handy-sin**

**Let’s talk.  
Chicken Feed @ 8pm tonight?**

Maybe RK900 did not humiliate Gavin after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Hell, mi amigos.  
> Please sign your name with a kudo and/or comment.  
> I'll love you forever.  
> @ra9sthiccbicc on twit


End file.
